The World Itself
by An0dyne
Summary: An old friend of Face hires the Team to get her sister out of a bad situation. Some violence, references to domestic violence, a little swearing, angst.
1. Chapter 1

**The A-Team characters belong to Steven J. Cannell and Universal. I am making no profit from this story.**

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Hannibal didn't like the look of the place. The shutters were falling off, the paint was chipped, and the garden in the front, probably once well-tended, was overgrown with wispy plants that looked sad even for a patch of weeds. The house's footprint sprawled across the dry plot of land, and Hannibal didn't like to think about how many hidden hallways inside might provide cover for someone trying to ambush them. He wasn't naturally cautious - most people you had asked right after the war would have said Hannibal Smith was the most foolhardy son-of-a-bitch in the Army - but being wanted by the military police had made him wary of dark places.

A late-model silver Cadillac sat in the driveway, its chrome gleaming. Hannibal checked the address he had written down, half hoping that somehow the incongruity meant that they'd gotten the wrong house. The addresses matched, though, and he turned toward the van and motioned for the other three to join him.

Lieutenant Templeton Peck - Face, as the team had nicknamed him - got out of the back seat and stood next to Hannibal, who was still eying the house dubiously. Face grimaced at his leather cap toes, which were already covered with fine soot from the pathway.

"Quite a place," said Hannibal.

Face gave him an ironic look. "And here I thought you loved a challenge."

Murdock, the team's pilot, loped up the pathway after Face. Ever since the men had left Vietnam, Murdock had lived on the psychiatric ward of the VA Hospital in Los Angeles; no one, not even the team, could quite tell whether he suffered from real psychosis or whether he was just feigning it to keep himself out of prison. Murdock wasn't talking, but more than once, Face had caught him reading _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ when he thought no one was watching. At any rate, Face had cooked up one of his usual scams to break Murdock out, and he was now on indefinite leave. "Not exactly Versailles, is it, Colonel?" said Murdock.

"No, and unfortunately, I'm not Louis XIV either." Hannibal turned toward the van again. "B.A., you coming?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." B.A. Baracus emerged from the van, his chains and earrings jangling. Hannibal winced a little at the sound. Some time after the war, B.A. had taken to sporting about 15 pounds of gold jewelry - necklaces, rings, the whole works. Hannibal had tried to get B.A. to lose just a little of it - it made them way too conspicuous - but to no avail. B.A. thought it made him look tough or rich, or both; the endless arguments with the strong-willed sergeant were no longer worth the trouble, since all they accomplished was to put both men in an ill temper. Face had finally convinced Hannibal that they could use the look to their advantage, since most people looking at B.A. assumed he was a drug dealer or a Blaxploitation star and tended to steer clear either way. Hannibal had to admit that he saw some wisdom in the argument.

"This is the place?" said B.A. "Man, it's a good thing Face knows this lady, or I wouldn't set foot in there. Looks like a firetrap. Why we gotta get work from Face's old girlfriends, anyway? We ain't that hard up."

"Vivian isn't an old girlfriend, B.A. Not really. She was just a . . . uh . . ."

Hannibal grinned. "Ah. Another one of those, huh?"

"Knock it off, would you?" Face gave up trying to get the soot off his shoes and started brushing off his suit instead. "The only reason I got involved with Vivian at all is that I had a crush on her younger sister. Let's just see if she's here, okay?"

"Fine. Lead the way, Lieutenant, since this is your party so far."

"Yeah, some party," said B.A.

Face started to reply, but thought better of it. After one more fruitless pass at the dust on his jacket, he approached the house, the other three following a few paces behind him. Face raised his hand to knock, but stopped short.

"What?" said Hannibal.

"Nothing." Face knocked on the door. After a few seconds, a woman opened the door. She regarded Face seriously for a few moments, and then gave a rueful smile.

"Templeton. Long time," she said.

"Hi, Vivian." He leaned forward and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. You're looking good."

She chuckled lightly. "Still ever the charmer, I see. I look about 15 years older than you and you know it." Vivian wore a faded and ill-fitting sundress that didn't complement the glittering sapphire and diamond necklace she wore.

Face ignored the remark; he made the necessary introductions and Vivian stood back to let the four men into the house. If anything, the place looked worse on the inside than it had from the outside. The entranceway was piled high with newspapers, which, judging from the musty smell, had been there for at least several years. _Collyer Brothers redux_, thought Hannibal. The curtains, heavy with brocade and dust, were drawn over the windows, and only the stark-white bulb from a crooked floor lamp illuminated the interior.

"I'm sorry about the mess," said Vivian. "We haven't been able to find anyone to look after this place properly."

"It looks like it was a nice house once," said Face.

"Oh, it was." Vivian stopped and pushed her hair back. "I suppose I'd better start at the beginning."

"A very good place to start," said Hannibal. Face had begun to explain about the situation, but he never reached the end of the story because he had to break away to mediate one of Murdock and B.A's frequent rounds of bickering. "I know that you want us to help your sister get away from her husband - not usually the kind of situation we handle. How exactly did you decide to call us, Miss Stern?"

Vivian looked apprehensive. "You must know that you four have been getting a lot of press over the past few years. The Army likes to talk to the papers about how dangerous you are. But I'm a friend of Templeton's from way back."

B.A. snorted, and Face gave him a baleful look. Vivian's expression went from apprehension to wry amusement. "And I see your reputation hasn't changed," she said to Face. She addressed Hannibal again. "So. When I saw that Templeton was one of you four, I knew you couldn't be all that dangerous, and I figured it might be a good idea to try and find you. God knows no one else has been able to help."

"There's no guarantee we'll be able to either," said Hannibal. "I'm sure Face has told you that we specialize in . . . unusual situations, shall we say. But anything involving families can be especially complicated. And I'll be frank - I was hesitant to take on this case for that reason. Still am. The only reason we're talking to you at all is that Face asked us to."

Vivian tilted her head toward Face. "I see you can still talk anyone into anything, Templeton Peck."

"Well. They don't call me 'Face' for nothing, it's true."

"He and I met in college," Vivian told Hannibal. "My sister Julia started there the year after we did."

"What in the hell happened to Julia?" asked Face. "She seemed to sort of disappear all of a sudden maybe three-quarters of the way through her freshman year."

"She did," said Vivian. "Do you remember Gus Jarman?"

Face squinted a little, trying to remember, and then nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Big guy, not too bad looking, always flashing money around, thought he was much smarter than he actually was? A real piece of work."

"That's the one. He and Julia started dating, if you can call it that, a month or two after they started school. He did like to flash money around because his family had a lot of it, and they weren't stingy about giving it to him," said Vivian. "He didn't do very well in college - didn't need to, since he always knew he was just going to work for daddy when he graduated."

"Mm. As usual, the ones who've accomplished the least talk the most. What did his father do?" said Face.

"He made a ton of money in the restaurant business. You know that seafood chain with the awful ads you see all the time - The Captain's Table? That's his."

"Hey, I've been there," said Murdock. "Mediocre food, tacky decor, waiters dressed like sailors - the whole nine yards. Prices aren't too bad, though, and they have an all-you-can-eat buffet on Mondays. Beats dinner at the VA, anyway."

"You're gonna wish you were having dinner at the VA if you don't shut up and let this lady talk, fool," said B.A.

"Julia got to college wanting to set the world on fire," said Vivian. "She probably would have, too, if she hadn't met Gus."

"That's how I remember her - a firecracker," said Face. "Good-looking, smart, funny - took after her sister, of course." He caught himself and smiled at Vivian, who rolled her eyes. "Why did she think she needed to get involved with a jerk like Jarman?"

"I wish I knew for sure," said Vivian. A lot of reasons I could guess at. We came from kind of a complicated family." She paused and wrapped her arms around herself as though the house had suddenly become cold. "Anyway. Everyone who met Julia liked her, it's true. She made tons of friends at first. He put the brakes on that pretty quickly, though."

They waited for her to continue. Murdock finally broke the silence. "He hit her." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," said Vivian. "That and worse. I think it eventually got to the point where she wished he would just hit her; that was sometimes the least of what he was doing to her."

Face had gone pale. "Jesus, Vivian. Wasn't there anyone she could talk to?"

"No. Like I said, he pretty much cut her off from everyone."

B.A. shook his head. "Takes a real big man to threaten a woman."

"I don't know whether he threatened her in so many words, exactly. Some of it was that she thought he would . . ." She paused.

"Beat on her again?" asked B.A.

"Right." Vivian swallowed hard. "But mostly, I think, she was afraid that he would break up with her. Along with everything else, he had her convinced that he was her last chance at holding onto a man. She believed that, too."

"Yep. Isolation is one way these bastards work their particular brand of magic," said Murdock. "Keep their girlfriends away from friends, family - anyone who might see what's going on and put a stop to it. Chip away at her self-esteem at the same time, and voila - learned helplessness. No way she could help herself anymore."

Hannibal knew he shouldn't have been surprised anymore about anything having to do with Murdock, but he still found himself startled every so often at the pilot's encyclopedic knowledge. "Uh, how do you know so much about this stuff, Murdock?" asked Hannibal.

Murdock waved his hand modestly. "You spend enough time on a psych ward, you learn about all sorts of pathologies. Even ones that aren't yours."

"A psych ward?" said Vivian. She plunked down on a ripped couch. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"No, it's all right," said Murdock. "I would let Face break me out more often, actually, but you really can't beat the VA Hospital's ocean views." Vivian didn't look reassured.

"I take it Julia is still with Jarman now?" asked Hannibal.

"Well, yes. But not by choice anymore; she did finally did decide to get out. Once they found out that Gus couldn't have children . . ." Vivian let her voice trail off.

"How did they know it was Gus with the problem and not Julia?" asked Face.

Vivian looked as though she would prefer to change the subject. "Julia had actually been pregnant before. In high school. Our parents didn't believe in abortion and threatened to throw her out if she had one. And it wasn't easy to do in those days, either. So she gave the baby up for adoption." Vivian wrapped her arms around herself again. "I told you we come from a complicated family."

Hannibal was beginning to get the picture. Jarman had wanted kids - sons, probably, if Hannibal made his guess - and wasn't going to get them. A man like that, accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it, probably wouldn't have taken the news calmly. He would undoubtedly have taken it even less calmly when doctors told him that his side of the equation, not his wife's, was the one coming up short. And the thought that Julia had already had a baby with another man might very well have sent him around the bend.

"So. Things escalated after that," said Vivian. "The police showed up a few times - domestic violence calls." She wiped her palms on her dress.

"She may as well not have bothered," said Murdock. "The police usually figure they've done their duty by giving the guy a talking to and telling him they'd rather not have to come out again."

Vivian was still rubbing her palms absentmindedly. "Exactly. And every time the police started to catch on to how bad things were, Gus would just pick up and take Julia to another of his family's properties." She finally seemed to notice her hands, and tucked them under her arms. "She called me and said that she and Gus were going away again. That was a little less than a year ago - right around the time Reagan was inaugurated, I think. I asked where she was going, but she wouldn't say."

"Fine," said Hannibal. "I've heard enough. We have to iron out a few details, but we're on the job as of now. But we're not inexpensive, Miss Stern; you know that, I assume."

"Oh, there's money," said Vivian. Something in the way she said the word made Hannibal feel a chill. "Julia and Gus have plenty of that. I'm pretty sure she could cover your fee and then some by selling a couple of pieces of her jewelry."

"Really," said Hannibal. He gestured toward her necklace. "Speaking of jewelry, if you'll forgive my noticing, that doesn't look like it's made of glass. And that's a pretty fancy car, too. Surely you have some money of your own?"

Vivian flushed. "I don't know that that's any of your business."

"I would agree with you, ordinarily. But much as I'd love to be able to put 'Good Samaritan' on our business cards, we do have to eat. I'm sure you'll agree that we're entitled to make sure we can be paid for our work."

Vivian looked defiantly at Hannibal, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to order the four of them out of the house. He could have imagined far worse fates. This job was making him hinky already and it hadn't even begun yet. There was something off about this woman, and it wasn't just her family. He had the feeling that the explanation lay in the jarring incongruity between her dress and her ring. He didn't care how isolated Gus had gotten Julia; things shouldn't have been able to get that bad. Not with her older sister there watching the whole time.

"Was that necklace a gift, by any chance? Maybe from Julia?" asked Hannibal.

Vivian dropped her gaze. "Yes, she gave it to me for my birthday." She tried to look at Hannibal again, but couldn't quite manage it. "What of it?"

"Ah. And I suppose there was more where that came from?"

Face cleared his throat. "Uh, Hannibal? Maybe this isn't the most constructive way to spend our time right now."

For a few seconds Hannibal seemed to consider the wisdom of Face's advice, and then he nodded. "All right. Let's get cracking."

Vivian filled in the details that Hannibal hadn't already gleaned. Gus's latest hideout was around an hour and a half outside the city, in Pine Mountain. The house was large and isolated - perfect for Gus for both reasons. She had known about the house for a while. She didn't find out about it from either Julia or Gus; tax records, she explained with a note of pride, were pretty easily searched, as she had found out from an afternoon at the library and the appropriate government offices._ A regular Nancy Drew,_ Hannibal thought sourly. He was surprised that she hadn't hired a private investigator to find out how much Gus had in his checking account. In fact, given her unusually keen interest in the subject, he wondered why she just hasn't come out and asked him point blank.

Although Vivian's relationship with Gus had once been close, she explained, it had deteriorated badly when Gus's behavior had started to get markedly worse. Until it had gotten impossible to ignore, more likely, thought Hannibal. After that, Vivian feared for her own safety, and didn't dare go to the Pine Mountain house herself.

"B.A., can you rig up a non-lethal weapon from anything we have in the house?" Hannibal asked.

B.A. looked around. "Not much here, but I can probably find something." He walked off, taking stock of the clutter.

"I'll be very impressed if you can make a weapon out of anything you find here," said Vivian.

"Well, we're not all as handsome as Face, but we do have our talents," said Hannibal. "If you give him enough time, B.A. could probably do some damage with not much more than what he finds in your kitchen pantry." He stood up and brushed dirt off his hands. "Face, help me get the stuff out of the van. We'll set up in here."

When Face and Hannibal returned, B.A. came back into the room with some cotton socks, grey from too many washings, and two large bags of rice. "Found this stuff upstairs and in the kitchen," he said. He sat down on the floor and started to rip up the socks. "We can use them in the shotgun. Won't kill nobody, but it'll put them out of commission real quick." He looked up at Murdock. "Come on, Crazy Man - don't just stand there staring." Murdock sat down and poured rice into twists of cotton as B.A. handed him strips of cloth, tying them up neatly and laying them in a row.

Hannibal doubted that the things would work, at least in the way they were supposed to; B.A.'s weapons were sometimes more non-lethal in theory than in practice. Still, as far as Hannibal was concerned, anything that kept the body count down, even theoretically, was fine by him. He and Face assembled their other weapons.

B.A. and Murdock finished their work and went outside to set up the van. Hannibal noticed that Vivian watched him intently as he packed a duffel bag. "Are you married, Hannibal?" she asked.

"No. Never married."

"Any children?"

Hannibal zipped the last duffel bag closed. "Face, let's go." He slung the bag over his shoulder.

Vivian followed Hannibal outside and stood near the van as the men loaded in their weapons. "If you have all this stuff, why do you need the non-lethal kind too?" she asked.

"Because we don't use deadly force unless we have to," said Hannibal.

"Oh? I had the impression that you didn't have any problem blowing away anything in front of you."

Hannibal loaded in another rifle. "I'm afraid you've been misinformed, then. Maybe you should spend a little less time swallowing the propaganda people feed you and a little more time believing what's in front of you."

Vivian flushed again, more deeply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Probably exactly what you think it does," said Hannibal. He had about had it with this woman. She had fed her sister to a wolf for the sake of the few dollars he threw her way occasionally, and now she didn't like it that someone had figured her out. Well, that was too bad. He would do what he could to help Julia; it was important to Face, if only for the glow of nostalgia. But he was damned if he was going to have anything to do with this woman for one second longer than he had to.

Vivian followed Hannibal as he walked around toward the van's side door. He stopped and turned around. "Where do you think you're going?"

Vivian seemed astonished. "With you," she said.

Hannibal laughed sardonically. "No, I don't think so."

"What do you mean you don't think so?" Vivian's voice rose. "I'm paying you for doing this. If I want to come with you I'll damn well come with you."

"You're not paying us, Miss Stern. You're letting your sister sell her jewelry. You just told me so a half hour ago."

"Aren't you clever. Oh my, yes," said Vivian. Her voice had become close to a snarl. "You're getting good money. Where it comes from is none of your business."

Hannibal started to get into the van. "You know what your problem is? You don't have enough imagination to understand that anyone might be different from you." He sat down in the passenger's seat and turned to hand a duffel bag to Murdock, turning his back on Vivian as he spoke. "I don't really care that much about the money; we'll find another job if we don't have this one, and for a client I like a whole hell of a lot better than I like you. Which wouldn't be very hard, believe me."

Vivian started to speak, but Hannibal cut her off. "We'll do this job our way or we won't do it at all. Your choice, of course. I realize it'll be a first for you to put someone else's welfare before yours, but maybe you can rise to the occasion."

For a moment Hannibal thought she was going to spit at him. "You arrogant bastard."

He grabbed the door handle. "I've been called worse things by better people. And less accurate, too. Now if you'll excuse me, we'll be on our way." He slid the door closed. Vivian watched, furious, as B.A. pulled the van out of the driveway and headed up the road. Hannibal saw her shout something after them, but he couldn't hear her over the roar of the van's engine.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm happy to hear constructive criticism, so if you have any, bring it on!**

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B.A. pulled the van to the side of the unpaved road, far enough away from the house that neither of the occupants would notice their approach but close enough that they would have no trouble making a quick getaway. "How far away are we?" Hannibal asked.

"'Round a quarter mile," said B.A.

"All right," said Hannibal. "Face, you and I will go in and get Julia. Sounds to me like Jarman will try pretty hard to hang onto what he thinks is his, so let's try to get in and out clean without attracting his attention." Face reached into the back and grabbed a rifle, handing it to Hannibal and taking one of his own.

"Murdock, make sure Jarman doesn't make any trouble for us," said Hannibal.

Murdock took the shotgun, loaded with the non-lethal projectiles he had helped B.A. put together. "Don't worry, Colonel. I'll make sure to aim above the waist." B.A. gave him a disgusted look. "Oh, come on, big guy," said Murdock. "You know I don't miss the target more than 20 percent of the time at the most."

Hannibal tried, not very successfully, to keep from laughing. "Face, we're moving," he said.

Face and Hannibal trotted up the roadway together toward the house, with Murdock following behind. The house was heavily shaded by the landscaping in the front yard, but it proved to be less foreboding than Hannibal had expected - like a well-kept version of the decaying property where the team had met Vivian.

As Hannibal had expected, the windows were covered with blackout blinds. Still, as the three men approached the house, he could see faint bursts of light flickering through the sides of the picture window. Someone was watching TV in a front room.

Hannibal motioned to Murdock, indicating that he should go around the house and through the back door. Murdock nodded and disappeared into the back yard.

After listening for a moment to make sure Murdock hadn't run into any unpleasant surprises, Hannibal stepped up on the front porch, Face close behind. He tried the door, finding it open, and walked quietly through the doorway. He and Face padded quietly through the entranceway, following the sound of the television.

Julia was sitting on the couch, looking far thinner and more care-worn than she had in the photo that Vivian had shown them. When she saw the two men, she started and began to say something. Hannibal quickly put his finger to his lips. "Shh - it's all right, Julia," he said, his voice low. "Vivian sent us to get you out of here." She stared at him, silent. "Come on." He put out his hand.

Julia still didn't move. Hannibal glanced toward the door, and then, without thinking, grabbed her by the wrist a little more tightly than he had planned. She let out a scream.

"Jesus, lady." Hannibal immediately wished he hadn't spoken. "We're here to help you, I said." It dawned on him that he wasn't helping the situation and he let go of her wrist. "Face . . ."

Face stepped in front of Hannibal and half kneeled in front of Julia. "Hey, Julia. You remember me, right?" She didn't respond, but the fear began to recede from her eyes. "Will you come with us?"

Julia looked at him, and then at Hannibal, and finally gave a staccato nod. "Ok," she said. She took Face's hand.

The three of them had gotten as far as the front porch when Hannibal noticed a flash of silver, caught by the afternoon light. Chrome. It took Hannibal's mind a moment to click into place. _Oh my fucking god. How the fuck did I not make sure she wasn't following us?_

There was no point in treating Julia with kid gloves now; she might not survive to appreciate it if they did. Hannibal grabbed her by the arm again and whisked her down the stairs so quickly that she was nearly airborne for half a second. As they began to cross the yard, Hannibal heard the van's rumble as B.A. approached.

Hannibal heard Murdock shouting. A man came running out the front door, moving faster than Hannibal would have thought possible for someone built like a Clydesdale horse. Jarman. At almost the same second, Vivian appeared in Hannibal's field of vision. _What a goddamned time for a family reunion. _"Face, go." Face held Julia firmly around the waist and ran across the yard with her.

Murdock, following Gus close behind, raised the shotgun. It exploded toward Gus, the handmade projectile knocking him over. He lay on the ground, dazed, and Hannibal thought he might be injured enough that he wouldn't be able to follow them. But Gus got up, rolling back his shoulders. He looked around, confused for a moment, and seemed to make a decision. He ran at Vivian, and although she saw him coming, she stood her ground. He punched her with a closed fist, knocking her to the ground.

The van came barreling up the roadway; Face and Julia reached it just as B.A. brought it screeching to a stop. Face threw open the door with his free hand, still holding Julia around the waist. In the second that they were standing still, Julia looked behind them and saw Vivian. She screamed her sister's name, struggling to get away from Face.

_I'm sure this day could get even worse, but I don't see how, thought Hannibal._ "Face, get her inside!"

Face held on to Julia, but kept his gaze trained on Vivian and Gus. Hannibal could almost see the wheels turning in Face's head. "Lieutenant! Into the van! Now!" Face cast one more look in Vivian's direction, and then dragged Julia, still screaming, into the back seat. B.A. made a hard U-turn toward Hannibal and Murdock.

Gus cursed and pivoted on his heel. He took a pistol out of his waistband and pointed it at Vivian, who was still half supine on the ground, bleeding from her mouth.

_I guess I just figured out how. _Hannibal trained his rifle on Gus. Before he could say anything, he saw Gus flick the safety off and prepare to shoot.

Hannibal and Gus fired at the same second. The force of Hannibal's shots threw Gus into the air as they reached their target, but not before his own round hit Vivian. _Goddammit. Game over. Goddammit._

The van fishtailed as it headed toward Hannibal and Murdock, and B.A. slammed on the brakes so that the two could get inside. Hannibal slammed the the door shut and the team sped away.

Face said something, but only thing Hannibal could hear was Julia. She was still screaming her sister's name as she looked out the back window, watching the carnage recede into the distance.


	3. Chapter 3

They placed an anonymous call to Pine Mountain police before taking Julia to her parents' house. They didn't have to worry about how to explain the events at the house. Once she had calmed down enough to talk to them, Julia explained that the local sheriff - one of the few in the state who didn't know the Jarman family and therefore didn't give a damn about their money - had been well aware of Gus's character, and would probably be taking the position that he needed killing. _Chalk one up for small town law enforcement_, thought Hannibal. _Good thing these guys never read the paper._

They dropped Julia at her parents' place. He didn't suppose her reunion with her parents would be exactly joyous under the circumstances, but at least they had gotten her out alive. Still, he was glad he didn't have to stick around to see it.

As usual, Face had scammed the four of them a house, this one on the beach. Face had told the house's owner that he was a studio location scout and that a film crew would need at least a month or so to complete their work uninterrupted. Or at least Hannibal thought so; he had stopped paying much attention to the details. As long as the place was big enough for the four of them and sufficiently off the beaten path that the MPs wouldn't come poking around, Hannibal took it on faith that Face had done his job well and that the four of them would be able to stay for as long as necessary. He hadn't been disappointed yet.

The team drove back without a word. Even Murdock dispensed with his usual running chatter. Although his men tactfully refrained from postmortems, Hannibal knew they were thinking the same thing he was: this had been one fucked-up job from beginning to end. He was pretty certain that B.A. and Murdock weren't blaming the snafu on him - they knew as well as he did that he couldn't always control every variable - but his own inner voice wasn't so forgiving.

B.A. pulled the van up to the house and cut the engine. The sound of the surf pulsed, filling the silence. "Go on upstairs," said Hannibal. "I'll be in after a while."

No one moved. Murdock finally leaned forward and put his hand on Hannibal's shoulder. "Why don't you come in with us?"

"It's all right," said Hannibal. "I won't be too long. Go on."

B.A. thumped Murdock on the arm, none too gently, and opened the door. "You let us know if you want us, Hannibal, you hear me?" Hannibal pretended not to notice the worried looks that Murdock and B.A. gave him as they went inside. Face, on the other hand, hadn't looked at him once since they had driven away from Jarman's house.

The team had tacitly agreed that Hannibal would get the downstairs to himself while the other three took the upstairs. Hannibal waited until he saw the lights go on in the bedrooms, and then took off his shoes and tossed them into the back of the van. He walked barefoot along the beach for a long time, through the twilight and into the dusk and past, letting himself sink into the sand.

He didn't know what time it was when he finally became too exhausted to walk anymore. When he returned to the house, now darkened, Face was sitting in an armchair in the living room, a glass in his hand. Hannibal picked up the bourbon bottle, now half empty, that was on the end table. "I hope you're at least mixing it with water."

Face still didn't look at him. "What do you want, Hannibal?"

"Where are Murdock and B.A.?"

"Asleep. Upstairs, if you want to debrief them."

"I wanted to see you." Hannibal put the bottle back down and gave a short sigh. "I figured you might want to talk."

Face finished the last of his drink. "I don't need to talk, Colonel. If you're going to give me a field demotion, why don't you just do it and get it over with?"

"You think that's why I came back in? To mete out some discipline?"

"How should I know?" said Face. He stood up, setting his glass down with a whack, and finally faced Hannibal. "You have all the answers. You always do, don't you? So why don't you tell me what you're doing here."

"Don't get snide with me. You know goddamn well why I'm here. I don't have to spell it out for you."

The two men glared at each other for a few seconds before Face lowered his eyes, unable to hold Hannibal's gaze, and turned his back. "Christ, you really don't get it," he said.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to, Lieutenant?" said Hannibal. "I don't need to remind you how many tours of duty I did in 'Nam - you were there for most of them. Did you ever think it got any easier for me to lose someone?" Face didn't answer. "I have some idea what you're feeling now."

Face shook his head impatiently and turned back around. "I don't know if you really do, Colonel. This was a woman we were supposed to be helping, not a soldier. We did a shitty job of protecting her."

Hannibal stared at Face again, but this time Face held his stare. "Now who's looking to hand out discipline?" said Hannibal. "The situation got out of control and we had to make a quick decision. I'm not any happier than you are about what happened."

"I could have gotten to her if you'd have let me."

"That's possible, sure. It's just as possible that you would have gotten killed, too. That wasn't a chance I was willing to take."

"Maybe it wasn't up to you to decide to trade her life for mine."

"And maybe it's not your place to question my decisions, Lieutenant Peck."

"Cut the bullshit, Hannibal. This isn't about insubordination."

"Is that right? And what exactly is it about, in your estimation?"

"It's about what the fuck you thought we were doing out there - what you thought you were doing out there," said Face. "This wasn't about the four of us, and it sure as hell wasn't about you. It was about that woman we were hired to protect, and her sister who's dead because of us."

"She's not dead because of us, Lieutenant," said Hannibal. "She's dead because her brother-in-law was a sadistic, psychopathic piece of shit and because she and the rest of her family kept making excuses for him because they didn't want the money fountain to run dry. That's why she's dead."

"No. She's dead because you made the decision that your feelings were more important than her life. And if your feelings cloud your judgment so badly, maybe you should give some thought to finding a different line of work."

Hannibal was quiet for a long time. He sat down and took a cigar out of his pocket. "You'd better be sure you want to have this discussion, Kid." He bit off the end of the cigar and lit it with a wooden match.

"I think we need to, don't you?"

Hannibal watched smoke rise from his cigar as the flame from the match subsided. He put his arms up on the back of the couch and regarded Face mildly. "Did you know I was engaged once?" Face looked at him, surprised. "Yeah. I gave her a cheap ring I found at a pawn shop. She managed to act like I'd given her the Hope Diamond." Hannibal smiled at the memory, shaking his head. "I was all of 19; she was a year younger. Seemed like a good idea at the time. We had the kids' names all picked out - a boy and a girl."

"What happened?"

Hannibal shrugged. "A couple of things. Mostly her father - he didn't approve of Catholic boys. And I guess she finally stopped being able to kid herself that that crummy glass stone was any kind of diamond." He took his arms off the back of the couch and puffed on his cigar. "Anyway. The Korean War came along pretty soon. Seemed like as good a time as any to join the army."

Face nodded a little too nonchalantly and refilled his glass. "Do you know what became of her?"

"Sure. She married Mike Porter, from the next town over. He eventually became a dentist, I'm pretty sure. They had two kids. A boy and a girl, if I remember right."

Face reached for his bourbon, but seemed to think better of it. "Hannibal . . ." He leaned forward with his head down, his elbows resting on his knees.

Hannibal moved forward on the couch toward Face. "Face, look at me." Face didn't move. "Look at me." Face started to speak again, but his breath caught and he shook his head, still looking down. Hannibal gave another short sigh and leaned back. "Ok. It's not easy, I know. But you're right - we need to have this conversation."

Face sat up and picked up his drink, but Hannibal gently took the glass out of his hand, setting it back on the table. "I love you like you're my own, Kid," said Hannibal. "I'm pretty sure you know that. I've never said it in so many words. But you don't usually volunteer to stand in front of bullets for someone, unless - "

Face interrupted him. "I know, Hannibal. I do."

"All right." Hannibal gave a slight shake of his head. "I just wish that didn't scare you so badly."

Face took a deep breath and let it out unsteadily. "So do I." He got up, but couldn't seem to decide what he wanted to do once he was standing. "But it scares the hell out of me." He stood awkwardly near the chair. Hannibal couldn't help smiling just a little at the sight of his second in command, usually so self-possessed, looking down at the floor and scuffling his feet around like a child caught misbehaving. He stifled a desire to tousle Face's hair and suggest that they go out and toss a football around.

"All right. Talk to me," said Hannibal.

"I don't know," said Face. "You know how it's been." He paused as though he thought Hannibal might interject. "It's never gone well when I cared about anybody, or when anyone cared about me. Always wound up with someone getting hurt. Usually someone other than me. Look what happened today."

"Vivian didn't die because you cared about her or her sister. She got caught in the mess she helped make," said Hannibal. "She finally felt guilty enough to see past her own wants, but by then it was way too late. And then she died trying to prove to herself that she hadn't done anything she couldn't fix." He looked at the glowing end of his cigar. "I probably should have let her come with us; at least that way we could have forced her to stay in the van. Only reason she showed up there on her own was that she didn't like someone telling her 'no' point blank."

So much time passed that Hannibal wasn't sure if Face was going to say anything else. "You didn't like her," Face finally said. He let the phrase hang in the air.

Hannibal felt like having a glass of bourbon himself now. "Ah. Well, I suppose that's right. And that's something I have to live with." He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. "Add it to the list, I guess."

Face looked flustered. "I didn't mean - "

Hannibal gave a flick of his hand. "It's fine. You didn't say anything that isn't true. I do seem to have a talent for putting people in harm's way. You boys know that better than anyone." He wished the house wasn't so quiet. "All these years on the run, no end in sight. Sometimes I think you would have been better off . . . ." He stopped abruptly, holding himself still and concentrating on the sound of the waves. He realized that for the first time that day, he had started to shake.

Face put out his hand as though he was going to out it on Hannibal's shoulder, but then he pulled back. He walked to the window, looking out at the beach. "The three of us make our own choices, Hannibal. You're not forcing us to do anything. You never have. We stay with you because we want to. You know that."

He turned away from the window. "But for me, growing up without a father . . . yeah." He rubbed his mouth. "Sort of ironic that I felt safer in the middle of a war than anywhere I ever was before that. Vietnam fucked up my life and kept me from killing myself, all at the same time." His mouth smiled, though his eyes didn't. "This stuff cuts both ways, I guess."

In the moonlight, Hannibal suddenly noticed how drawn Face looked. "Kid, get some sleep. You're exhausted."

"Is that an order?" Face asked.

Hannibal couldn't quite read Face's expression. "No. No, it's not an order," he said.

The numbers on the digital clock flipped over with a soft snap; it was little after 3:00 AM. "Are you tired?" Face asked. Hannibal knew that his lieutenant didn't have to ask the question; the kid had spent god knows how many nights watching him pace all night after a job, especially one that didn't go as planned. But Face didn't wait for an answer. "Do you mind if I sleep down here?" he asked.

"No, but it might not be as attractive an option as you think," said Hannibal. "Believe me, the couch isn't especially comfortable."

"I don't need the couch. I'll sleep on the chair."

Face sounded so plaintive that Hannibal finally found himself with a lump tightening in his throat. He stood up and reached out almost blindly, putting his hand on the back of Face's neck. He half expected Face to pull away, but Face wrapped his arms around Hannibal, pressing his temple into the colonel's shoulder. Hannibal was startled for a moment - neither one of them was demonstrative - and then drew Face into a hug, holding him tightly. The clock's numbers flipped twice again before Hannibal let go and stepped back.

"Come on. You need some rest. The couch is already made up." Face started to protest. "It's all right, Face. You know I won't sleep anyway. Go on."

Face was asleep within seconds of lying down, his expression finally serene. Hannibal sat in the armchair beside the couch until the gulls started to cry, and then he finally slept. He dreamed that he watched children brandishing toy weapons, laughing as they played in a lush and cruel jungle.


End file.
